


Deck the Halls with Boughs of Wolfsbane

by AkumaStrife



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Multi, Pack Mom Stiles, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unsurprisingly, the hub for pack comings-and-goings is the kitchen. With the amount they eat, Stiles feels like he never leaves it. [Christmas Eve Fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deck the Halls with Boughs of Wolfsbane

The Hale kitchen is big. Bigger than Stiles’ own. But when the pack comes all piling in early Christmas Eve, after Derek had them out training to give the human members space to decorate and cook, somehow the room seems tiny and cramped. Even more so when Stiles has to contend with half a dozen ravenous monsters, whining  _when’s dinner going to be ready_  and  _can’t they have a snack now?_  The betas push around Lydia and him eagerly, noses following scents as they practically try to climb over the two humans to get at the food. 

“I knew we should’ve hung wolfsbane around the kitchen door,” Lydia says, shoving Erica off her shoulder. Which the beta takes as a game and crowds in her space again, burying her nose in Lydia’s perfect curls.

“Derek,” she warns. “If you don’t get these menaces out of here I’m taking back all of your gifts.”

Derek is quick to corral his pups into line, eyes flashing as he grabs them by the scruff of their necks and toss them by twos into the living room. 

Allison’s voice floats in from where she’s decorating the tree, “Oh good, helpers!” And by her following shriek of surprise it seems one—if not all—of the betas have found the mistletoe Lydia hung up. 

Scott dodges out of Derek’s reach and presses up against Stiles’ back, chin digging into his shoulder as he shivers. “It’s freezing out there.” And proceeds to shove his hands into the front of Stiles’ pants. 

“What the hell, dude?” Stiles nearly flings his spatula. 

“Hold still, Stiles, I’m trying thaw out.”

“No, no, you do not get to use me as a hand warmer. You’re banished from the kitchen. Actually, you’re going to go outside and help Danny with the lights.”

“But I was just out there and it’s so cold,” Scott whines, pressing his frozen nose into Stiles’ neck.

“No buts, get out there!”

Scott slinks off, and before Jackson even has the chance to ridicule him, Stiles orders, “You too. If you have the energy to be a jerk, then you’re going back outside. I’ll send someone out for you when dinner’s ready.”

Jackson begins to argue in disbelief, but Derek growls and Jackson drops his head and hurries to follow Scott to the front entry. Snagging him into a headlock, if the sudden shouts are anything to go by.

With the betas out of the way, Derek hovers in that irritating way that he does, and goes to taste the pot of simmering gravy. Stiles slaps his finger with a wooden spoon and he jerks his hand back in surprise.

“No pre-tasting.”

Derek’s eyes flash red. “I’m the alpha.”

Stiles continues to stir the mashed potatoes with a flat look. “Maybe of your Island of Misfit Toys. But I’m the Alpha of this kitchen, so you can wait like the rest of the pack.”

“That’s right, Derek, so be a good dog and don’t beg,” Lydia says, and forcefully shoves passed him to put the green bean casserole in the oven; it’s one of the only ways they can manage to get vegetables down the wolves’ throats. He glares at her and she glares right back, oven mitts fisted on her hips. He’s not getting a taste, not if she can help it. 

Even immune (which is a real shame, considering that’d she’s easily be alpha female and he could use the help) she’s a force to be reckon with, and Derek backs off, content to lean against the door between the kitchen and the living room. 

She grins wide and flounces over to the counter to continue her assembling of the fruit salad—a triple batch, because she knows any less and the humans will literally have to fight tooth and claw to get a serving. 

Isaac slips back into the kitchen, looking over the pots and bowls and trays piled high with food. His eyes flash gold in hunger, but knows better than to push his luck again. He won’t be forgetting The Thanksgiving Incident for many years. Ever so casually he asks, “Why is there mistletoe hung above the study door? Not a whole lot of foot traffic going that way.”

Stiles smirks and holds his hand up to Lydia for a high five. She rolls her eyes, but indulges him anyways. “Did you know mistletoe has similar properties to mountain ash, and therefore is very good at keeping curious werewolves out?”

“Aha!” Isaac says, pointing at Stiles. “So that  _is_  where the presents are hidden!”

“Yes, but i’ve puppy-proofed it, so don’t even waste your time. Presents are after dinner, and there will be no peaking until then.”

Isaac huffs and sulks back into the living room, Derek ruffling his hair briefly as he passes. 

Stiles gets to cook in relative peace for a few minutes, the speakers hung next to the fridge switching from Harry Connick Jr. To Dean Martin. Allison must’ve let someone else command the living room stereo now that everyone was back. Ever since the holiday season hit they’ve listened to Madonna’s ‘Santa Baby’ alone 364 times. And he’s pretty sure each member of the pack is equally responsible. Probably Jackson and Erica more so. 

There is a distinct crash outside and Stiles does his best to ignore it. Worst case scenario, someone’s been stupid and broke their arm. Best case, two someones were stupid and broke the ladder while making out. Either way it’s fine. 

Dinner is almost ready and Stiles sends Derek out to collect the boys, when Boyd comes into the kitchen. He smiles sheepishly, shoulders hunched as he gingerly lifts his shirt.

“Patch me up?”

“Oh my god, what is that?” Stiles jolts back, covering his mouth as he turns away from the gaping wound, only to swing around and bend over for a closer look; equally horrified and curious. The wound has dirt and other bits from the forest ground into it, the exposed flesh stretching and quivering slightly with each breath he takes. “Seriously, dude, what the hell? How are you standing there like nothing’s wrong? Why didn’t you come to me as soon as you guys got home?”

Boyd shrugs. “It’s only a flesh wound, I thought it would heal. But it needs to be cleaned out I guess, before the process will start.”

“A flesh wound?” Stiles is almost yelling at this point, voice reaching dangerously high octaves. “Oh god you’re dripping on the floor, please tell me you didn’t bleed on the new carpet.”

“It’s not that bad, Mom, hardly stings,” Boyd jokes, and Stiles fixes him with a look.

“Don’t make me get the flinstone vitamins.”

Erica saunters into the kitchen and holds out Stiles’ Batman backpack. It’d been a gift at the beginning of the school year from Derek. They’d all gotten one with their respective superheroes, as part of Derek’s weird “providing for his pack” traditions. 

“Here, got your diaper bag. You’ve got the first aid kit in there, right?”

“What is with you guys? I am not your mother. Thank god for that,” he grumbles. But takes his backpack and shuffles Boyd off to the bathroom for damage control. Funny enough, though, it was rather like a diaper bag—or whatever the teenage werewolf caretaker equivalent was. The updated first aid kit was a no brainer, but it also was filled with anything and everything that might help diffuse a possible situation. Juice boxes and snacks, Isaac’s favorite comic books, a spare set of clothes, a rubix cube that’s used more for punishment than anything, and his kindle that he rarely gets to use himself. He even packed a few coloring books with crayons. They’d all made fun of him for that, and yet they’ve all been caught enjoying themselves coloring in emergency rooms or at the library. 

He also has a revolver wrapped in an extra sweatshirt at the very bottom… just in case. 

* * *

After the massive amount of food Stiles and Lydia made is thoroughly polished off (Stiles thinks he should be used to it by now, but he still spends half of dinner just watching the betas literally inhale food. He’s sure there’s a discovery channel special in there somewhere) they gather around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts. Which just so happens to be Derek’s gift to all of them. As far as Boyd tells it, Derek was out half the night early December looking for the biggest tree. It’s their first Christmas together as a pack, their first Christmas with the Hale house completely renovated, and they all wanted it to be special. 

Allison decorated stockings for everyone and filled them with small goodies; candy, gifts cards, trinkets, and joke presents. They barely all fit tacked up above the fireplace. 

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac pitched in to buy the humans leather jackets, as it was, they joked, a requirement. 

And so on. The gift giving takes longer than Stiles anticipated; their pack has grown since last year, when they’d dealt with the Alpha Pack. He sits in between Derek’s knees on the floor, up against the couch, and when he looks up Derek is smiling softly. Watching his pack laugh and wrestle and crawl over each other to pass out gifts from the seriously impressive pile around the tree. 

Stiles nudges his leg and, when he looks down, asks, “Is this what it was like before? With your family?”

Emotion flickers in Derek’s eyes and for a moment Stiles is about to tell him to forget he ever said anything, but then Derek just smiles and runs his hand over Stiles’ short hair. “No, it’s better.”

After presents there’s hot cocoa and old christmas movies and too many people trying to fit on the couch. Scott and Allison and Isaac all manage to curl up together in the recliner and Stiles doesn’t even question how that works. There’s far too many comparisons between Derek and Rudolph, and Derek almost switches out the dvd twice. But soon enough they have to pack up their gifts and get going. It’s Christmas Eve and they all have their own traditions to prepare for. 

Boyd and Erica leave first, planning to spend Christmas day with Erica’s family. 

Jackson’s next, tugging both Lydia and Danny by the hand after him. Apparently they’ve spent every Christmas together since middle school. 

“Neither of you are walking me up again at 6am. That shit is not going to fly this year,” Jackson hisses as he buttons up his coat. Lydia flips her hair and adjusts her scarf, giving Jackson a very coy smile. Stiles wonders for the hundredth time how they’ve managed to stay together this long. 

Danny laughs, clearly the culprit in many of the early incidents years past. “But what if I wake you up nicely? Like with a holiday blo—“ the door slams as they leave and Allison giggles.

She leans against Scott as she tugs her boots on. “So Derek, you’re more than welcome to celebrate Christmas at my house.”

Derek snorts. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

“Aw, come on. I promise my dad will behave. Two murder attempts, tops.”

“It’s your mother I’m more worried about. Now get going, or they’re going to start calling me, and contrary to what you might think, Allison, I do not enjoy phone conversations with your hunter parents when they’re wondering where you are.”

Allison grins and presses a quick kiss to Derek’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, you big grinch!” She hurries out the door before he can retaliate. Stiles counts to six before she’s pushing the front door open again. 

“Scott! You have to drive me home, in case you’ve forgotten. C’mon, Scott, here boy!” She whistles for effect and Scott untangles himself from Isaac, chasing her down the front steps. She shrieks and they go rolling into the ground, a heap of limbs, and Derek shuts the door. Not in his house; not his problem.

Stiles follows him back into the living room, perching on the edge of the couch as he watches Derek pick up blankets and pillows from the floor. 

“You’re not spending Christmas alone,” Stiles says. “Come over to Scott’s place with me. It’s a tradition. My dad and I go over there and Mrs. McCall makes food while Scott finds where she’s hidden the gifts and my dad tries to eat way more than his doctor allows. Even Isaac’s gonna be there with us.”

Isaac nods with a bright grin. He hasn’t had a real Christmas in… well, a very long time. He’s looking forward to a day free of stress, surrounded by people he cares for.  

Derek looks as stubborn as usual, and Stiles groans, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him close. He fits easily between Stiles’ thighs, the movement smooth and automatic. And when he bends down to kiss him, he tastes like  _home_.

“I’m just gonna… you know… go this way,” Isaac says loudly, a little exasperated. He rummages in Stiles’ backpack and finds his stash of comics and takes them with an obnoxious sigh into the dinning room. 

Stiles chuckles, pressing his forehead against Derek’s. “You’re coming with us to Scott’s house. No excuses. It’ll be tons of fun.”

“Fine. But your Father better not clean his shotgun on the table again. I will not stand to be threatened so blatantly.”

“Please, like Mrs. McCall would allow that. She loves that table.”


End file.
